|
2003-12-16 21:19:56 ET So I went to that land up north, Canadia I believe it's called. It was an odd and wounderous trip. I took my rental car and traveling compaignion and left Seattle, heading for the border. I wasn't sure what to expect, but I knew there'd be some suprises. The first surprise happened when we hit the Canadian border itself. I was expecting a friendly guard, welcoming us in that Candadian-friendly way. I was wrong. The guy was a prick. He asked me rapid-fire questions perhaps trying to rattle me, which just seemed very un-Canadian. He asked me where I worked, as if I was going to screw up and say "Fake Corp.", and the jig would be up. He asked me what I was doing in Canada. I said I was going to fuck as many Canadian women as I could. After the body cavity search, we headed for Vancouver. We stayed in a 5-star hotel, which among other luxuries, included "pokey" in the honour bar (note the Canadian spelling -- I'm fast to adapt). I live the Sexy Unix Lifestyle. Another Canadian moment was when I was explaining how far this strip club was. I gave him the distance in FUCKIN KILOMETERS (Booyeah), of which I had converted in my head. Years of running 5 and 10 kilometer races paid off. I felt like I was in Star Trek. Captain, Romulan Warbird 10,000 kilometers off the port bow! The metric system is cool and all, but you just can't be bad-assed using it. You're cool drinking a foity of beer, not a litah of beer. You're not going to pay respect to anyone of your dead hommies by pouring out a litah for him or her. Now I have to tell you about this power I have. It's called "Canadar". It's similar to Gaydar, the ability to spot a gay person when it isn't readily obvious to most people, but with Canadar I can spot Canadians. I was talking to a new coworker, and 2 minutes into the conversation I said "you're a Canadian!" She was taken aback, not having told me. Really, it's a gift. I can just tell. So imagine how often it went off in Canada. Damn thing nearly shorted out. Every time I heard "abewt" it went off. Also, I'm pretty sure Canada exists about 10 years in the future, and they've kept it a secret so as to keep the US from invading them like so much oil-rich land. As soon as you cross the border, you hit a time warp, moving back and forth 10 years. Mental note: If Canada disappears, we've got 10 years left. We went into a store aptly named "Future Store", and I swear I saw them hurridly replacing their modern electronics with electronics from 10 years past. I bet there were a few 10 Petabyte hard drives, and perhaps a few SHDTVs (Super-High-Definition TV). The dead-giveaway though was the beautiful futuristic apartment buildings. They looked like they were just a few years away from having the buildings in the fucking Jetsons. Perusing housing prices made me even more mad; the prices for two bedroom condos was piddly! A one-bedroom with a den was around $120,000 CD, in downtown! We went to a few clubs, had Canadian girl drinks (which seamed a lot weaker), and generally had a great time. We accidentally ended up in a bad neighborhood and found ourselves surrounded by junkies at 2 AM. We didn't feel the least bit threatened. One even gave us directions to the strip club we were looking for. It was closed though. I'll never get to see a fucking strip club. Anyway, coming back I prepared for another cavity search as I faced the legendary asshole American border patrol. Actually he was quite nice. He asked me if I brought any food back, and I mentioned the dark chocolate bar I got. "I said food!" he smiled, and I thought I was going to get a motherly lecture on nutrition. He waved us on, and we headed back into non-metric country. |
